Star and Shadow
by ManhattanWitch
Summary: Draco is lonely and cut off from his family. But he doesn’t want to accept anything from Harry. HPDM, slight slight SLIGHT slash, Merry Christmas everybody


Title- Star and Shadow

Summary- Draco is lonely and cut off from his family. But he doesn't want to accept anything from Harry.

Disclaimer- not mine

Beta- Netrixie

Author's Note- Written because of the following quote from Netrixie's _Hero. _It kind of just stuck inside of my head and emerged fully formed. It's Flangst. I apologize.

… … …

… … …

"And so you wander the halls, looking for nothing more than stars and shadows, and you find me."- Draco from Netrixie's _Hero_.

… … …

… … …

The corridors were dark and lonely, empty of even the slightest trace of the students who used them by day. The abandoned hallways seemed calm and easy, a drifting_**, **_lazy dance of dust motes and still air. There were shadows within shadows, dark hideaways that beckoned to Draco with the promise of secrets. It was an easy thing for him to follow the winding hallways, soundless and ephemeral in his passage. His fingers trailed against the cold stone walls, caressing every bump and easing along every crevice they encountered.

The Slytherin sighed noiselessly as his wanderings brought him to a window, cool silver eyes tracing the landscape before him disinterestedly. It was a moonless, cloudless night- what little light there was came from the far off stars. Everything looked so vague, so unreliable, so different from their daylight selves. The Great Lake had become a pool of ink, occasionally disturbed by the Merfolk who lived within. At this hour, the Dark Forest was even more menacing, more foreboding than when rays of light prized apart the shadows.

Everything was different in the dark__of the night.

… … …

This night was different from the others of the past week. Clouds burdened with rain obscured the sky,__and the moon was a thin curved line low on the horizon. A breeze whipped through windows carelessly left open and raced down the halls, gleefully teasing the edges of tapestries and shifting the portraits. Hair that was normally perfectly coiffed was tussled and became knotted as little gusts of wind played through the platinum locks. Though Draco had wandered the halls for looking for quiet, this loud and gusty storm suited his mood perfectly. The lean Seventh Year sighed and crossed his arms against the wind, having given up on trying to tame his hair.

Letters from home came with less frequency than in earlier years, and Draco was worried. But there was no one to confide in, no one to share his fears and apprehensions with. So he wandered the corridors night after night, hoping that the calm and the solitude would help him, would give him the answers he so desperately needed. He pushed off of the wall and headed back towards the dungeons, deeper into the bowels of the castle. If the loud weather could not help him, maybe the still serenity of cold stone walls could.

It was better than laying awake in bed.

… … …

Lightening stuck, thunder roaring right on its heels, the sudden light making the corridor Draco was prowling as bright as day. Again and again, the lightening flashed, the ever present claps of thunder masking any other sound. The Slytherin snarled silently in satisfaction. He didn't want to hear anything, wanted the world to drown out the sounds of his thoughts. The storm was just what he needed, the violence and power of it soothing the ache in his chest. His hands curled into fists as he continued to walk, nails digging into his palm. It had been weeks since he'd heard from his parents, _weeks_, and the only thing they'd said in the most recent letter was, "We do not desire your company this Holiday Season. Make arrangements to stay over at Hogwarts for the duration."

They didn't want him to come home. His parents- his tradition bound, Pureblood parents- did not want him to come home. Draco came to a standstill. It seemed that he had committed some heinous offence, though try as he might the Slytherin could not recall anything of the sort. His fists abruptly relaxed, and he leaned his back against the stone wall, careless of the dirt he was inflicting on his white shirt, eyes fixed on the light and fire display outside. They didn't want him. But he had not been disowned- there might be a chance of regaining their trust. His eyes slid shut and he inhaled sharply. He was a Malfoy. Malfoy's did not grovel no matter the circumstances. He would make his own way, as he always had.

The liquid on his face could be blamed on the rain lashing in through the window.

… … …

Everything was coated with ice. Trees hung immobile with the weight of it, the lake was covered in such a thick sheet of it that you could walk across with no trouble. Icicles glistened, long and sharp from the eaves of the castle, glistening in the pale, weak moonlight. Draco slid his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall, shoulder slowly freezing from the contact even through several layers. He admired ice, approved of they way it hindered all around it. It was hard and sharp and biting cold, and no one wanted anything to do with it.

Draco wanted to be ice, to have people treat him the same way. He wanted nothing to do with the petty affairs of those beneath him, wanted to be able to have sidelong glances and pitying looks slide right off of him. The Slytherin slowly closed his eyes and bowed his head. He would be ice, be frigid and unapproachable to all who would _dare_ try to command him. He didn't need anybody- his family had told him that.

He just needed to forget that eventually, ice melted.

… … …

The dark cool recesses of the castle no longer seemed to be able to sooth the gaping hole inside of him. He could not venture outside, where spring had a hold over the land and was melting the ice that he'd strived so hard to emulate. These walls and corridors at least had the chill of winter still inside of them, keeping them cold and hard. Draco could pretend they were the graceful icicles he wanted to become. His feet traced a familiar path, though he cared not where they were taking him. Out of the noisy Slytherin common room, away from the fire and bustle of friends and companionship. He just wanted to be left alone.

There was a shift in the air, a change in the scent of it. No longer was he surrounded by the thick and heavy air of the dungeons. No, there was a hint of soil and frost and flowers to the gentle breeze lazily caressing his cheek. A turn in the corridor showed him a hallway lined with windows along one side. His eyes traced them, unwillingly taking in the newborn grass, the fresh blooms hanging inside of the stone arches. Draco lifted a hand a traced a finger over one, feeling the satin of new petals. A scuff of rubber on stone caught his attention and he lifted his head sharply, hand falling away from the flower. Potter stood at the other end of the wall, eyes wide and mouth hanging idiotically open. The Slytherin met his gaze calmly, then vanished into the shadows of the hallway he'd come from.

Let Potter make of that what he may.

… … …

Though he'd varied his paths and the times which he wandered, Draco still kept seeing glimpses of his counterpart. But he ignored it, mostly, intent on trying to recapture the ice of the winter. That one touch of a flower had undone so much, and now his façade was a think mask over his roiling emotions. Even cool spring nights with their bright moon and stars could not sooth the turmoil inside. He wanted to behave unlike a Malfoy, wanted to lash out and cry. His fists, when he gave in to temptation, bled and broke against the once comforting stone walls of the dungeons. His knowledge of healing kept them scar free and smooth but the occasional loss of control worried him.

The hallway he was standing in was one level above the Slytherin common room, and one level below the main floor of the castle. He placed both hands flat against the rough stone of the wall and stared at them, wondering if there were scars on his hands, or if his memory was supplying the places they should have been. He should have been surprised- but he was not- when a tanned hand came out of the shadows and tenderly lifted his hands off of the stone. He watched, emotionless, as his hands were raised. A dark head of hair bowed over them, and he felt a soft kiss be pressed against his knuckles.

"There is nothing wrong with them, Draco."

… … …

It was almost a comfort how Potter seemed to know when to talk and when to stay silent. Somehow, without Draco noticing, the Gryffindor had become a part of his nightly tours of the hidden depths of the castle. He didn't ask the brunet how he knew what he'd been thinking, that first night, nor why he felt it was necessary to kiss his hands. He didn't want to scare away his unlikely companion. The hole in his chest where his family should have been seemed less ragged, less poisonous, when the Gryffindor was there.

Sometimes they wandered aimlessly through the building, one following the other. Other times, Draco would stop, lost in thought, and Potter would wait for him. There was an ease about their companionship that the Slytherin had never known. Yet there were moments such as this when Draco would find himself leaning against a wall, arms crossed and leg bracing himself, staring absently at the strong line of Potter's jaw. When the brunet turned to face him, smile playing about his lips, the Slytherin straightened up sharply.

A man such as he had no right to desire someone who walked in the light.

… … …

It was easy enough to avoid Potter, when he thought about it. The simplest way was the easiest- just remain inside the dorm. Though he was restless and unable to sleep, and he hated laying awake in bed, Draco stayed inside. Somehow, though, when compared to the occasional touches that Potter gave him, his expensive sheets felt rough, his handmade clothing worn and patched. His room mates conversation and company were silently compared to the Gryffindor's and found wanting.

But Draco reasoned with himself. He was too dark to stay near Potter- he might tarnish him. And he was afraid, too, of the brunet. Afraid that, like a night blooming plant, the slightest touch from the sun would make him wither and die. Night and day were never meant to mix, and it was as simple as that. But how he wanted…

But the night passed slowly. Relentlessly.

… … …

It was only supposed to be a short stroll, to work the restlessness out of his legs. But Potter had been waiting for him in one of the corridors, had stopped him and demanded to know what he had done wrong, if he had pushed the Slytherin away somehow. Draco had been at a loss to explain it. He couldn't -wouldn't- tell the other man what he'd realized. Standing in the bright moonlight, the Slytherin had turned away, intent on walking back to his dorm and forgetting about the Gryffindor all together.

But a strong arm had stopped him, had turned and pinned him against the wall. Those familiar green eyes were sad and serious, and the brunet leaned in close to the Slytherin, saying in a husky voice, "Draco, _please_. Please- just don't walk away from me again."

Silver eyes slid shut as he tried to hold back tears.

… … …

The light of the moon was cool on his face as he raised it to the dark and starry night sky. Potter shifted beside him, and Draco could feel the steady gaze from the other man. The Slytherin sighed and turned to Potter, resting his back against the stone wall, secure in the knowledge that the moon behind him made his face almost impossible to read. "You do not understand, Potter," he said slowly, each word heavy on his tongue. "You should not want to be near me, associate with me. I am dark, much too dark to have anything to do with you." Draco swallowed hard. As hard as the words had been in his head, saying them here, in the light of the stars and caressed by shadows was as if rocks were falling from his lips.

The Gryffindor shifted, coming out of the shadows he had been standing in and letting the moon bathe his features. He seemed to Draco like one of the Fae, here for the moment but gone in a instant. "Draco…" he trailed off with a sigh. "It is my decision to make, whether I choose to be here, with you, or not." The brunet's hand twitched, as though it wanted to reach out and take Draco's own and hold them tight.

"Draco. That you prefer the night does not mean you are dark."

… … …

There was no moon tonight, no stars to gaze upon. The sky was full of clouds, thick and obscuring. The air was warm and scented with the fragrance of flowers, their rich musk invading Draco and helping him relax. For once, the Slytherin had decided to take his wandering outside, to be under the sky instead of just viewing it from inside. The grass made shushing sounds as he ambled through it, Potter as ever by his side. Draco wondered, comfortably, when the other man's presence had become so familiar. He still did not approve of Potter's insistence on accompanying him on his nightly walks, but he had given up on protesting.

Chuckling from the Gryffindor brought Draco back to the present. "Stop thinking about sending me away. You know I will not go." Came the warm command from somewhere to his left. Potter moved forward slightly so that the Slytherin could see him, his step as light and aimless as his companion. "I would rather spend the night out here with you than listening to the nighttime noises of my room mates."

When he finished speaking, their shoulders were comfortably rubbing together.

… … …

Even the comfort of the grass and the gentle starlight could not distract Draco tonight. The semester was almost over, and he had yet to hear a word from his parents. Though the ground was soft and dry beneath him, and Potter was stretched out on his back to Draco's right, he could not relax enough to enjoy the tranquility. There were too many thoughts rustling around in his head, too many emotions. He turned to Potter and sharply asked, "Why? Why do you continue to seek me out? What do I offer you that your… _friends_…cannot?"

The Gryffindor's head lolled to the side, then he raised himself up on his elbow. "You call yourself shadowed, too dark to be near me." He trailed off as he sat up, twisting to face Draco head on. "That first night that I ran into you, when you were so gently holding a flower, I was looking for shadows to hide in."

It seemed as if the world stopped for a moment, then.

… … …

The corridors were dark and still, even at this time of the morning. The sunlight couldn't reach this far into the castle, couldn't reach past all the twists and turns of the hallways. Draco stayed still, hidden in shadow, lost in thought. The sound of people laughing and talking drifted around him, but the only thing he paid attention to was in his mind. His parents had arrived earlier that morning, had talked to him alone and explained their actions. They had _apologized_, something he would not have believed had it not already happened. And now, they were waiting outside, along with all the other parents of his class, waiting for their children to graduate.

Footsteps called his attention, and a dark head peered inside of his hiding spot. "Still hiding in the shadows, Draco?" Potter shifted so that he, too, was hidden from view.

Draco shifted. "Tell me something, Potter. Tell me truthfully why you continued to seek me out."

The Gryffindor titled his head to the side, a small smile playing at his lips. "I wanted darkness and shadows, that first night. But what I found was shadows and starlight." The smile bloomed a bit more as the brunet leaned in closer, stopping inches away from Draco's face. "I learned something, during all those nights spent with you. That even though the sun might not be shining, it does not have to be completely dark." His voice lowered to a whisper as he reached forward and picked up one of the Slytherin's hands. Potter turned it over and over, tracing the lines of his palm, then lacing his fingers together with Draco's.

"I learned that even the darkness is lit by the moon and the stars, and even the shadows can be beautiful." The Gryffindor raised their joined hands and kissed the other man's palm.

His voice was quiet and hopeful. "Will you come with me?"

Draco smiled, heart lifting _finally_ as he tightened his grip on Potters fingers. And he stepped out of the shadows and into the sun.


End file.
